Chapter 12. Now Maris
NOW: MARIS
I twisted the bracelet around my wrist, staring at the carving of the goddess Aster in the chamber door.
Her braided hair was cast out around her, floating in the wind, and the end of each strand was tied in a noose that tethered the skeletons of her enemies to her—an eternal reminder of victories won.
An inscription written in the first language was carved across her chest, its meaning lost to me.
I let go of the bracelet, pulling my shoulders back and lifting my chin before I pushed the door open.
The vestibule that served as the entrance to the Consul’s chambers was quiet, the guards posted on either side of the next set of doors, which were propped open, framing the view of a polished wooden table adorned with garlands of olive leaves.
The fresh green fragrance filled the rooms, made heavier by the scent of the burning oil in the lamps.
The customary invitation had come with the Magistrate’s robes that were delivered to the villa less than two days after my mother died.
I’d recognized my uncle’s penmanship immediately, and I imagined him writing it at his desk in the Consul’s study, recording the dictation.
A private dinner with the Consul was the last of the ceremonial traditions that marked the induction of a new Magistrate.
It was considered as much an honor as an opportunity.
When I left these chambers, I would be either a friend or an enemy of the Consul. There was no place in between.
I studied the table as I entered, eyes trailing from one lavish platter to the next.
The head of a pig was the presentation’s centerpiece, the tip of its tongue just barely visible between its lips.
To either side, mounds of figs and apricots dotted the spread of roasted meats and flame-charred artichokes.
Fragrant cut wedges of lemon were arranged among them like little stars.
It had been months since I’d seen food like this.
The market had been emptied only weeks after the fighting began and the dole to the Citadel District was a mere portion of grain and salted fish.
Almost as soon as the legionnaires began to tear the Citadel’s insignia from their chests, Iola had gotten to work.
She didn’t say she was leaving, but I could feel it.
For three days she’d harvested what fruit and herbs could be found in our gardens.
She preserved and dried what she could, lining the shelves of the kitchen with jars and wax-sealed crocks.
When the last loaf of bread came out of the oven, she kissed me on the cheek and pressed her forehead to mine. And then she was gone. Just like Luca.
There had been a table much like this one at our villa the night I first met him.
I’d watched through the tangle of climbing roses as Magistrate Matius hit him in the face.
I’d been so shaken by the sudden violent act that when Luca’s eyes lifted to his uncle’s again, steady and still full of light, I’d been trapped in a kind of awestruck daze.
I hadn’t been able to walk away. Not ever.
But Luca had found a way to walk away from me.
The chamber doors opened and the Consul appeared, the backlight from the sun hiding his face and that of the figure who entered on his heels. The boots of the guards knocked together at attention, and I lifted a hand to stave off the glare. The man with him was my uncle.
I dropped my hand, mind turning at the sight of him. It wasn’t usual for the Consul’s scribe to attend a dinner like this one, and Nej hadn’t mentioned that morning that he would be joining us.
My gaze returned to the table, where a third place was set. I hadn’t noticed it before.
“Magistrate Casperia.” The Consul looked me up and down, his attention lingering a beat too long on my breasts.
Beside him, Nej’s eyes were conveniently pinned to the floor. I knew this game well enough to know where it led. There was an expectation here. An unspoken request. If I wanted to garner the goodwill of the Consul, one way to do it was to end the night in his bed.
“Consul, it’s an honor to be your guest.” I dipped my head respectfully.
He gestured to my seat before he took his at the end of the table and Nej followed, sitting across from me. He didn’t look me directly in the eye, his entire countenance different from what I was used to. There was a stiffness to him that I didn’t recognize.
A servant entered the room with a jug of wine tilted in her hands and she filled the glasses, beginning with the Consul’s. He was still watching me, a look of curiosity in his eyes.
“It grieves me greatly that your mother chose a coward’s ending after so many faithful years as a Magistrate,” he said, picking up his glass.
He stared into it, as if imagining my mother taking that poisoned sip.
“Some just cannot stand beneath the weight of true leadership, and in the end, weakness outweighed her sense of duty.” He looked at me for a long, silent moment before he took a drink.
This, I could guess, was some kind of test. A way to put me through a sieve and see what came out the other side.
“The Citadel was my mother’s first and greatest love, Consul Saturian,” I said.
“I’m not sure I would agree with that. The writers of Isara’s most enduring tragedies would have us believe that there is no greater honor than to die for love.”
“Maybe, in her own way, she did,” I said.
My instinct to defend my mother wasn’t something she’d earned, but to hear her loyalty to the Citadel questioned was something even I had difficulty swallowing. Her preoccupation with the Forum and everyone in it had always come first. Even before her own daughter.
“I’m relieved to see that you still bear pride for your family name, Casperia.” He gestured to the medallion around my neck. “The legacy of your line is honorable, and the failure of one link in that chain can be mended with the right heir.”
The Consul took up the knife at his side, skewering a slice of pork and setting it on his plate. I understood his meaning. He was saying aloud the thing we both were thinking—that the seat I was inheriting had been disgraced. And the name Casperia didn’t hold the unblemished record it once had.
Across the table, Nej unstopped a bottle of olive oil.
I spooned the apricots onto my own plate, stilling when the utensil gleamed just a little too brightly.
Slowly, I turned it in the lamplight, watching the liquid gold shimmer.
The Consul even ate his food off silver cast with godsblood. The thought made my stomach turn.
“My scribe has told me a lot about you. He would have me believe that you are the future of this city.” The Consul took another drink. “I must admit, I hope he’s right.”
“I’m ready to play my part, Consul.”
He stabbed his fork into the bleeding meat, sawing at it slowly. “And what part would that be, exactly?”
Reflexively, I glanced at Nej again, but the reassurance I was looking for wasn’t there. He hadn’t so much as acknowledged my presence from the moment he walked in.
“To fulfill my vow to the Citadel,” I answered.
“That’s the problem with the vows, Casperia. They’re so … nonspecific.” His knife waved in the air. “Yours is an interesting background for a Magistrate. I understand your noviceship took place in the Illyrium,” the Consul said.
“It did.” I tried to rein in the irritation sharpening my tone, but Nej seemed to catch it. He sat up a little straighter, shifting in his seat.
“And was Ophelius a gifted teacher?”
I watched the Consul’s face for any hint of where this was going. But it was blank, his attention still directed at his overflowing plate.
“She was.”
“Did you find your instruction thorough?”
I studied him.
“What does a novice in the temple learn exactly?” he added.
“Ophelius instructed me in the history of the city, the myths, the ways of the gods.”
“Rites? Rituals?” he asked.
“What exactly are you asking, Consul?”
Finally, Nej looked up, meeting my eyes. There was a silent warning in them that filled the air between us.
“The new dawn of Isara is mere days away. The warlord who calls himself Commander of the New Legion will find his rebellion over, and the first thing we will do is fill the empty seats of the Forum so that we can rebuild all he has destroyed.”
His voice didn’t so much as tremble as he spoke of his son, Vale. There was a coldness in his eyes that made them a lighter shade of blue.
“The gods are at work, Casperia. The days of the factions were over even before Magistrate Matius died and his son committed treason. What we must decide now is how we will unify the Forum.”
“I don’t understand.”
“It’s time for Isara to remember we are but servants of the gods. There will be decisions to be made. And when the judgment stones turn, it’s important that they turn in our favor. That’s one thing your mother understood very well. It’s the reason I recognize her loss as a great one.”
“You can count on her, Consul.” Nej’s voice was deep and certain. It swelled with pride.
But I was still trying to sift through the cryptic words the Consul had spoken.
He seemed too calm. Too sure that we were days away from peace.
More disturbing was the implication that my mother’s work in the Forum had somehow been in league with the Consul.
From everything she had said, she’d hated the man.
“Can I?” The Consul turned to me, waiting.
There was a tension in the room that made me uneasy, the weight of his words sinking deeper each time my heart beat.
Something was happening, something that made the Consul certain that he’d won.
He was already stacking the seats of the Forum, eager for my allegiance.
He was plotting. Strategizing. This wasn’t the game of a madman.
“Casperia? Are you with us?”
I met the Consul’s gaze straight on. “I am.”
“Then it is time for me to ask what it is I can do for you.”
Nej’s gaze moved to me again, and I was suddenly grateful for his presence. This was the part of the pomp and circumstance when there was an exchange to be made. My loyalty pledged as payment for something I wanted.
“I plan to initiate a vote at the next tribunal.”
Nej stopped chewing.
“Oh?” The Consul set his elbows on the table. “Calling a vote at only your second tribunal? That is quite ambitious.” His eyes slid to my uncle. “A family trait, I think. And what is the motion?”
“A meeting. A formal negotiation with the Commander of the New Legion for a peaceful resolution to this war.”
Nej’s knife hit his plate, the sound ricocheting in the room.
The Consul stared at me, waiting. He looked genuinely confused. Typically, these requests came in the form of a countryside villa or a more advantageous family seat in the Citadel’s theater. But I wasn’t interested in any of that, and it seemed to catch the Consul by surprise.
“I’d like to propose a—”
“I heard you,” the Consul interrupted. “But agreeing to negotiate with those who have committed treason is a validation of their cause. And I’m sure that is not what you are suggesting.”
“It’s not.” I was struggling to keep my voice even now.
“Then the only thing I can conclude is that you wish to spare the rebels the vengeance of the gods. Because it is coming for them, Casperia.”
“With respect, sir, that’s what we said before they took hold of the gates, before they took the upper hand in the Lower City. Before they took the Illyrium.”
Nej wiped his mouth, struggling to swallow down his food. But the Consul didn’t appear to be angry. He gave me a look I couldn’t read. Curiosity, or intrigue, maybe.
Nej finally found his voice. “I’d like to apologize, Consul, I—”
“Don’t apologize.” The Consul’s hand lifted, silencing him. “There is untempered arrogance and then there is brazen foolishness. Our new Magistrate has not yet proven which of these ailments she suffers from.” His face was unreadable, but he didn’t break his gaze from mine.
Across the table, Nej let out a strange sound, muffled at the back of his throat.
He set down his wine, plastering a smile on his face.
This was exactly what he’d warned me not to do, but I wasn’t going to waste the chance to influence the outcome of this war or miss the only opportunity I had to save Luca’s life.
But it was clear to me now that Nej had been wrong.
There was no power to be gained here. You couldn’t wager against odds like these.
I glanced down at the spoon, turning it in the dim light just enough to see the shimmer of godsblood. Ophelius’ words came back to me. It’s time to go see him. Something has changed.
I was beginning to think she was right. And if the Consul wouldn’t negotiate with the New Legion, I would have to do it myself.
“I can assure you my niece is ready for what lies ahead,” Nej said, conviction deepening his voice.
The Consul took another bite, speaking around a full mouth as he chewed. “I supposed we’ll see, won’t we?”